


I Wouldn't Say No

by quietwandering



Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: First Time, Implied/Referenced Underage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24195151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietwandering/pseuds/quietwandering
Summary: Time to tell the tale.
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Morrissey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	I Wouldn't Say No

**Author's Note:**

> My hyper focus has brought me here again as I write my first Marrissey fic in over 9 years. 
> 
> This is set 1982, so Johnny is likely 17/18 here with Moz being around 22/23. 
> 
> Title is from [Reel Around The Fountain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V04bUY5Kl8w).

Of course the bus was late again. The bus was always late when I was already behind, and I stormed up the steps to the top deck, hardly apologizing to the woman I near wiped out with my guitar bag. Sitting down towards the back, I nervously smoked through three cigarettes to calm my nerves, but the nicotine only made me more jittery than before, so I stubbed the fourth one out halfway. I could only hope that Steven wouldn’t have thought I’d have cancelled without phoning ahead.

Finally, the bus pulled into Wythenshawe station, and I set out towards 384 Kings Road. The heat had sweat pooling off me, soaking my lower back and underarms visibly through my dark button down, but I bounded through the garden gate without much mind to my appearance -- for once.

I knocked a few times to no answer, and my heart sunk at the thought that Steven might have gone out. Surely not though. The man seemed to hardly ever leave the refuge of his bedroom unless forced by necessity. Resting my forehead against the wood, I stubbornly stood in place and wondered if throwing rocks at his bedroom window was too desperate. 

A few minutes passed, and I heard someone inside coming down the stairs. I frantically knocked again, hopeful. “Steven? It’s me. I’m sorry to be so late. Work was awful today. Some skinheads came in and --” 

The door opened, and I sighed in relief at Steven standing there with a tired expression. “I apologize. I...I was asleep.” 

I engulf the man in a grateful hug for probably far too long and push inside towards the stairs, taking them two at a time. With the guitar safely laid against the bed, I sink down into the sheets that smelled of Steven freshly awoken. There was a peace here in this room and this bed that I didn’t feel elsewhere aside from when I was with Angie.

After a few minutes, I heard the door shift as Steven came in with two glasses of water with extra ice, and I sat up to gratefully take the one handed to me, downing half of it. “Sorry again. I’ve had so many ideas since I last came round though. I think you’re really going to like it.”

Steven sat next to me, shoulder to shoulder, at the edge of the bed and looked down at his water for a time before taking a sip, setting it on the table nearby. “Yes, I’ve written as well. Just a few things.”

Smiling, I sit my glass aside, too, and sink to the floor. I pull my Les Paul into my lap and play for nearly a full hour with Steven sitting at the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, watching with rapt attention. Not once did his eyes stray to the open window or round the room. He only had his eyes on me, my hands, and the guitar.

My wrist finally cramped up enough for me to know I had to pause for a while and Steven’s smile was blinding as I went to sit back on the bed, bumping our shoulders. “That was great, Johnny. You’re so talented.” 

“Yeah? Well, let’s see those lyrics then,” I asked, eager. “Do you think any of them match up with those chords? I really liked what I’d done with the --” I hum the part I mean, gesturing. “It’s a bit Patti Smith, still, but I think, with some work, I can make it different enough.”

Steven nodded in agreement and reached for the jotter up by the pillow, handing it to me. I look down at the page, excited, and begin to read the lines. ‘ _I dreamt about you last night, and I fell out of bed twice. You can pin and mount me like a butterfly_.’

My chest tightened as I continued to read, hoping the flush on my face was attributable to the heat drifting in from the window. “This is...wow. This is something,” I say after a few minutes, thumb scratching at the paper to distract myself. “This is really...really good.” 

“You don’t like it,” Steven said quietly. The ever present doubt in his voice had piqued. “I’ve a few other lyrics we can --”

“No. No, I like it Steven. Sorry. I really do think it’s wonderful.” I reached to finish off the now room temperature water, throat dry. Steven quickly stood to take the glass, asking if I wanted more. I only nodded and was grateful for the moment alone.

‘ _Meet me at the fountain. Shove me on the patio. I’ll take it slowly._ ’ I shifted on the bed and brought my legs under me, trying to alleviate the growing pressure in my jeans. Thoughts of Angie mixed with images of Steven, their lips and tongues and hands in useful places. How would I even be able to sit through Steven singing something like this?

The door creaked open, and I nervously fumbled the notepad as Steven walked back in, hands suddenly shaky. Quietly, Steven picked the pad up and handed me the water, sitting back next to me. “Are you ill? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine. Think I might just be overheated,” I lied between sips of water. Steven nodded in understanding and sat the notepad back up by the pillow.

“Maybe just take off your overshirt and stand by the window? That’ll help.”

I knew, without a doubt, that wouldn’t do anything but cause trouble. Still, I couldn’t find a reason to decline so I found myself stripping off my button down and, after a moment’s thought, the soaked white undershirt, dropping them to the floor. Wandering to the window, I stared out at the greenery beyond.

Angie had relentlessly rolled her eyes good naturedly at me these past few weeks with every mention I’d made of Steven -- I couldn’t stop talking about him and how well everything seemed to be going with our partnership. I finally had someone that understood the importance of my chords, my melodies, and wanted to help make the band of my dreams. “ _Just marry him already!_ ” she would tease before dropping me off at home after work. “ _He_ _’s clearly waiting for you to ask him._ ” 

I had always brushed her off, laughing, but I knew what she meant, knew what she was trying say. “Johnny?” I jumped at the feel of Steven’s hand on my bare shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

I turned and found myself trapped between Steven and the window, my head tilted near all the way back to look at him. “I’m...I’m good, sorry. I’m just...you know, planning and stuff.” 

Steven’s small smile made my heart race again, and I let myself lean against the windowsill for support. “We’ve not even got any other band members yet. I’m not sure how far we’re gonna get without a drummer.”

“We’ll get you a tambourine, huh? Two man band,” I said, realizing Steven was a lot closer than before. I held onto the wood trim digging into my thighs and tried to breathe normally, tried not to lean in. Steven smelled of sleep and soap and tea, musty books and records. The deep cupid bow of his lips had me transfixed. “Maybe some chajchas.”

Our lips finally, finally met, and our teeth clicked as we learned the way our mouths were meant to move together. I grabbed tightly onto Steven’s cardigan and let out appreciative noises as he crowded closer -- my back painfully pushed into the window latches. I tried to intertwine our legs, but Steven was pulling me towards the bed, twisting so I landed on the mattress first.

I watched as Steven pulled himself out of the layers of clothes he was hidden under, the top half of them anyway, and moaned as he climbed onto my lap. His long fingers were skittering across my chest, searchingly. “Johnny, I’m…I’m not sure exactly --” 

The words are cut off as I bring our lips back together, missing the feel of his clever tongue against mine. I lick hungrily along the back of his teeth, the ridges of his palette, and swallow all the sounds he makes for me, breathing loud and frantic. There is nothing I want more than this. I want my entire existence to be Angie and Steven and the sound of my Les Paul and the music they all inspire inside of me.

Our hips are moving tempestuously against one another in rhythm to our tongues. I can feel Steven’s hands nervously moving along my side. Trapped in this house, and this room, I’m overwhelmed that someone as magnificent as this man can be hidden from the world. I want to show him to everyone and relish in their jealousy as they realize they’ll never have him, will never touch him like this.

I pull back and breathe, let my eyes open to take in Steven’s flushed face above me. Those clear blue eyes are cloudy, darkened, with his pupils wide. He is sinful looking enough to make my mum faint. “H-hey,” I say after a moment, smiling lopsidedly. “Come here often?”

Steven’s smile is tentative, and the way he licks his lips makes my cock throb with want. “I...I don’t know. Though I certainly...hm. I can imagine myself staying for a long while. That is, if you would have me, really.” 

“I’ll have you,” I say, probably too fast, but I don’t care. I push one hand under the back of my head and run the other along Steven’s chest, tracing the bump of each rib and the vee of his hips. “I’ll be glad to have you. I’ve wanted you, I think, since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Oh…” Steven’s expression softens and his eyes trail down the length of my body. I roll my hips just to show off, my abdomen flexing with the motion, and Steven moans loud enough to make my toes curl. Sighing, I push Steven down onto the bed so I can finally pull my lips across the length of his collar bone.

The moans encouraged me to let my mouth wander down to each nipple, sucking them experimentally. They were different to Angie’s own. The pebbled buds were surrounded by firm muscle, not by soft skin, but they seemed just as responsive to my tongue, Steven’s thighs trembling against me as he squirmed.

The hand not holding me up from the bed was busy rubbing at Steven’s hip, but I soon dared to pull at the button fly of his jeans. Not sensing any resistance, I pushed them and his underwear down enough to free Steven’s cock, watching it bounce against his lower stomach. I didn’t have much experience with boys aside from a few chaste kisses, but I figured Steven wouldn’t really care -- or notice.

“Can I...Can I touch you?” My throat suddenly felt tight, and I'm momentarily scared of rejection. Steven only moans and nods in encouragement though, sighing as I experimentally wrap my hand around his cock. We were similar in many ways aside from the length. We were both cut, and his leaned slightly to the right while mine was usually more straight on.

I tried to touch him the way Angie touched me with reasonable success. Steven shifted restlessly against the bed, flushed down to his chest that I was continuing to kiss, but he had buried his face into his arm much to my dismay. “Let me see you...hey.” I let go only briefly to tug at his elbow. “I want to see how much you like this.”

I’m met with Steven grabbing at my wrist, his tongue laving against my palm. I shudder and buck helplessly against him. My entire body feels hot and over sensitized as he sucks first a single finger then two between his lips, cheeks hollowed. I shakily let my hand brush back down his chest afterwards, palming the tip of his cock. He was now leaking drops of precome, and a string of it pulled between my fingertips and the slit. I’m not sure I’d seen anything quite as arousing before. Shifting, I let myself lean closer and drag my tongue curiously along the vein jutting out along the underside, and Steven let out a long moan in response, kicking frantically at the bed. “ _Johnny_. Oh, Johnny. Johnny --” 

The taste is of skin and salt and sweat, and I begin to lick further along, hungrily digging my tongue into the slit. Steven’s back bowed up against the bed, and I can see him tearing at the sheets. “Is this okay?” My voice sounds raw, and I’m met with only increasingly frantic noises. I can’t quite bring myself to properly blow him like Angie does me sometimes, I’m too nervous I’ll fuck it up, but I let myself revel in the taste and run my wet palm along his shaft. “You’re incredible, Steven -- I’m so lucky. To hear you...to hear you like this, beneath me. And _be_ here, with you.” 

I can’t help rutting against Steven’s leg as my mouth goes on ahead without me, shuddering. There was a part of me unwilling to let go of Steven long enough to get my jeans undone, but I couldn’t get my other hand out from under me enough to get the job done. I’m just barely able to shove my Levis down and pull myself out before I’m back to rutting against what was likely Steven’s knee. “I don’t think...Johnny. I think I’m -- _Oh_.” 

I don’t pull back in time, too concentrated on dragging my tongue along the ridge of his cock, and I feel a liquid warmth jet against my cheek and along the bridge of my nose. Giggling, I stare up at Steven’s mortified expression, chest heaving from exertion. “It’s okay, no worries.” 

“My apologies. I didn’t...I’m very sorry,” Steven stutters out between hiccuping breaths. “That wasn’t my intention.” 

Defiantly, I swipe the mess off with my still wet fingers and clean them with slow, deliberate licks, not breaking eye contact. “It was _my_ intention though,” I reply in what might pass as a sultry tone, hips twitching anxiously. My voice is wrecked, and I’m sure I must look a state. “You taste...good.”

There’s a long moment of silence as Steven stares on, eyes saucer wide, before he tugs at my shoulder. I let our lips push back together and feel him desperately grab at my own cock. I’m unable to stop the noises that spill out from me as he strokes me with unsteady movements, slightly too tight and dry. My back bows out, and I begin to curl into myself from the immensity of my arousal. Steven’s other hand pets my hair comfortingly when I’m unable to keep our mouths together, and I’m once again not sure if I’ve ever been this turned on in my short life.

My lips wetly slide along Steven’s chest, breathing in the smells of testosterone and sex and _Steven_ , before my entire body shuddered with orgasm. I’m consumed in holy fire as I moan out unintelligible pleas, grabbing Steven’s elbow to either stop him or encourage him, maybe both. My mind was a total blur. “ _Fuck_. Steven, jesus _fuck_.”

There’s an echoing moan as my senses begin to float. I'm aloft in some distant part of my mind, relaxed and serene. After a while, I feel swollen lips press against my own, and they slowly kiss me back down to Earth. I shiver and roll onto my back once I’m able to open my eyes again. Steven is staring down at me inscrutably as ever. “Was that...okay? I’ve not ever…Except with a girl or two but...I was mostly just there…” 

I can’t help but laugh and pull him down next to me for a brief kiss. “I’ve not either. You’re fine.” There’s a bit of a shift as we discard the rest of our clothes and get into the bed proper, our legs entangling. “Could I stay the night?”

“You’ve no overnight bag,” Steven said quietly, those long fingers running through my hair, tugging the strands absently. 

“I’ll call Angie. She can drive some stuff down in the morning.” I feel Steven tense against me, and I suddenly realize what he’s thinking must have happened. “No. No, hey. She...she’s aware. She’s fine with us. I promise.”

Steven’s expression is full of questions, but I kiss him reassuringly, comfortingly, till his breath slows and my eyes feel heavy. 


End file.
